Imagine There’s No . . .

I imagine things all the time. I imagine being an amazing housewife…looking like Julianne Moore in Far From Heaven, but being happy like Mrs. C in Happy Days. I imagine conversations with everyone from Rosie O’Donnell, to Patti Smith, to Barack Obama. Conversations where at first I only have a minute to speak, but they are so captivated by my wit, my directness, that a moment turns into five minutes which turns into an hour which turns into a life long friendship. In truth, I did meet Rosie O’Donnell and she barely gave me the minute I asked for, and when it was over she hightailed it out of her studio.
I imagine being a hero of an ordinary kind. Where I am walking down a city street and save someone from a falling brick, a rushing train, an out of control car. Or driving down a highway I spot a burning car and help pull out it’s lone passenger. Then days later, after I am out of the hospital recovering from my burns, gashes, bumps on the head I am feted by Barbara Walters, Katie Couric, Brian Williams, Ellen, and when I am asked things like do I really think I am a hero (no) or what made me do such a crazy wonderful thing I manage to mention something about the state of the world and the crazy republicans, and then I am a folk hero on David Letterman and giving my two cents on everything from the elections to child rearing to the greatness of Harry Potter vs the trash that is the Twilight series.
But what I have a hard time imagining is any actual success in my life. I can’t imagine going to an opening of my artwork at a big institution, like MOMA or even the ICA Boston. I can’t imagine getting calls from collectors and gallery owners. I can’t imagine going to a big white space in Chelsea wearing some new great outfit and having my picture taken by Bill Cunningham. I can’t even quite imagine having day after day to simply do my artwork. I really can’t imagine making a living from my artwork, or meeting with the head curator at a museum to discuss the installation of my work.
According to Oprah, among other 20th century gurus, the fact that I can’t imagine my success means I will never have it. There must be some part of me that believes I will get there, because I do work on my art each and every day. I sit in a chair and write on gloves and draw small drawings. I go to openings and read about other artists. I guess I believe it is possible, but I am afraid to imagine it because unlike all those other fantasies, this one not coming true is just too painful to imagine.

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